Angel's Flight
by StarBlazeWrites
Summary: How did Warren Worthington III come to stay at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth? The backstory of Angel in the A&X universe (my X-Men: Evolution AU). TW: Depression, self-harm
1. Chapter 1

Warren had been growing wings for as long as he could remember. When he was born, they were just bumps, or so he had been told. When he was a toddler, they grew to bony nubs with feathers sticking out. As he grew older, the more recognizably bird-like they became, and eventually they became huge, white, feathered wings. When he was 10, his parents got a cloth harness made that kept them tied to his back so he could fold them tightly inside his shirt. It was uncomfortable, it successfully kept them hidden. He managed for awhile.

Then, when Warren was 13, his body underwent a growth spurt. His wings did, too. Soon, they were too big to fold inside his shirt.

The next year, his parents pulled him out of school and enrolled him in online school to complete his education at home. They couldn't risk him being seen, they said. No one could ever know about his wings.

Slowly, his parents stopped letting Warren be seen in public, fearful of what other people might think if they glimpsed his wings. Now he wasn't allowed to go outside at all, except for appointments or fancy social gatherings his family attended. And even then, he had to wear the harness, that contraption designed to "keep those horrible things on your back a secret", as his mother had always put it. When he was wearing it, almost no one noticed the huge hunch on his back. No one noticed how miserable he was in it, either.

Warren HATED the harness. Each year since he'd hit puberty, the pain when he wore it became more intense, because of the growing size of his wings. The only reason he wasn't forced to wear it 24/7 was because his private doctor (who was paid VERY well to keep his silence) had told them that the compression could harm the growth of his ribs and internal organs. But without the harness, that meant he couldn't go outside, ever.

It was important to keep up appearances, after all. What decent self-respecting family would want it known that their only child has freakish wings growing out of his back?

He supposed there were worse places to be imprisoned. The Worthington family lived in a high-ceilinged two-story penthouse in Manhattan. Warren spent his days doing schoolwork for his online classes, reading, and watching videos on the Internet, occasionally jumping off the open staircases to feel the rush of air under his wings.

Now Warren was sixteen. His parents had started leaving him home alone for longer periods. Lately , he'd been aching to spread his wings in a more open environment. Dreaming about it, even. He just had to know if they could hold his weight in the air.

After mustering up the courage for weeks, he waited until his parents went out to a charity gala one night. He put on his trenchcoat, the only clothing he had left that could hide his wings, some sweatpants, and his good athletic shoes. Then he went up to the rooftop access door.

Warren was glad that they had always had their own private rooftop, which lowered his chances of being seen by anyone. He took off his coat, having no shirt on underneath, and spread his wings wide. Standing on the roof, with the hot New York City wind in his wings and whipping at his hair, it was then that he knew he wanted to fly. Every hollow bone, every feather in his wings, every muscle in his body screamed at him to immerse himself in the air. He wanted it so badly. He NEEDED it.

After that one time, he was hooked. Warren kept sneaking up to the roof at night and spreading his wings in the wind, feeling it almost lift him up. One night, he decided he was going to actually dare to jump.

He wore a face mask, made from one of his father's old silk neckties, just in case someone noticed a shirtless guy with huge white wings. He quite doubted it, but in this city, anything was possible. Warren walked to a corner of the roof that was adjacent to a lower terrace of the building. It would do nicely. He took a deep breath, unfolded his wings, slowly leaned over the edge, and jumped.

The wind was harder to control than he thought. He glided down roughly, almost tumbling over in the air, aiming for the center of the terrace. He felt his feet hit the gravel, and he landed, hard, almost stumbling over the edge of the high-rise. But he'd made it! It was exhilarating. He felt his blood rushing, as if he was born to do this. Of COURSE he was born to do this. That's why he was born with wings!

Then he realized he'd have to make it back home, to his penthouse...which was about ten stories, straight up.

Warren cursed.

He'd never before flown that high in his life, but he had no choice. There was no way he could go back inside and simply walk up the stairs; he'd left his coat on the roof and his wings would be exposed to anyone who happened to pass by. This meant he'd have to fly off the roof, gain momentum, rise to a higher altitude, and land back on the roof.

Warren looked over the balcony, at the city below. It was the middle of the night, but cars still drove around the brightly lit streets, and people were out walking, handling who knows what business. This was the city that never sleeps, after all.

He really, really hoped that no one would look up.

Once again, he stood on the edge, took a deep breath, spread his wings, and jumped.

It was like instinct took over. He angled his wings to adjust with the wind speed and direction, scooping up exactly how much air he needed to carry him straight up. He beat his wings once, twice, feeling the surge of speed shove the air into his face. But he didn't blink. Warren never had much of a blinking reflex, even as a child. Now he understood why.

Soaring with little effort, Warren easily cleared the roof. He flapped a little, slowing down and lowering himself to the terrace. He pumped his fists in the air and laughed.

For the first time, he truly felt alive.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I'm sorry for everyone who was expecting another A&X update,but this was one of those stories that wouldn't let me rest until it was written: the story of how Angel came to live at XIGY. In my AU, he's a student there.

This version of Angel and his family was inspired by his appearance in "X-Men: The Last Stand". Warren has severe Depression because of the way he grew up, and becomes close with Milo, an empath who he doesn't have to explain himself to. He talks in super-proper English because of his mother.


	2. Chapter 2

Warren sneaked out many more nights after that. Now that he'd had a taste of freedom, he couldn't stop. Every time his parents went out to one of their fancy parties, he politely declined their invitation, choosing to do more test flights instead.

He was practicing flying on a beautiful, cool windy night in a residential neighborhood when he heard a scream. It was different from the other shouts and noises that was the background noise of New York.

This scream sounded like someone who feared for their life.

Warren banked a sharp corner and saw the source of the blood-curdling scream: a boy on the sidewalk about to be beaten by two men with baseball bats. They looked as if they were trying to steal the contents of his bag, and wouldn't take no for an answer.

Warren tucked his wings in and broke into a dive. He'd never done this before, but he was confident that he could pull it off. One of the would-be robbers raised his baseball bat to swing at the boy. He had only a fraction of a second.

He spread his wings and slammed to the ground between the boy and the robbers, who stumbled backwards in surprise. The wind from the beat of his wings briefly whipped up dust and trash from the street. They dropped the baseball bats to the ground. That was exactly the effect Warren intended.

He stood tall over them. "Leave," he said quietly. He didn't need to say anything more; the two men dropped the phone and shoes they had stolen and bolted down the street. Warren turned to the boy, who was still on the ground, stunned. "Are you okay?" The kid nodded, speechless. Warren jumped on top of an abandoned car and opened his wings wide, readying to take off.

"Damn, you a real-life angel, B?" Warren lowered his wings and looked behind him. The boy had stood up and finally spoken. Warren smiled back at him. He'd take that as a "thank you for saving me".

He opened his wings again and crouched; he really hoped this worked, because just like landing straight out of a dive, he'd never taken off straight up into the air, either.

Warren jumped as high as he could and beat his wings hard, pushing himself above the parked cars and the windows. He heard a few people's alarmed voices. He didn't care if he was seen, he only hoped they didn't see his face.

Warren tried to be more careful after that. He went out later at night, when there were less likely to be people; he tried to favor foggy, misty, or moonless nights; he never flew over open spaces like parks where people were inclined to look at the sky. As counterintuitive as it seemed, flying closer to urban landscapes was safer than going to a park.

But occasionally, Warren would fly over a theft, assault, or even murder in progress. And he couldn't turn a blind eye. He would dive out of the sky, just as before, scare the criminals off, and perhaps throw a kick or knock the weapon out of their hand. Then he'd take off again.

This went on for months until Warren's father stormed into the condo one evening and threw a magazine at him. "What the hell is this, Warren?" he shouted. He must have been truly furious; his parents typically insisted on clean language.

Warren put down the schoolwork he was doing and picked up the magazine. It was a gossip rag, one of those cheap magazines sold on the newsstands that mixed in celebrity rumors with hoaxes. They would publish anything to attract attention. On the cover, in huge letters that took up half the page, was the headline "WHITE-WINGED ANGEL SIGHTED IN NEW YORK", and underneath it was a photo of him.

The picture was grainy and dark, obviously taken at night by someone's smartphone. If Warren squinted, he could see two wings attached to a human-ish shape. It was barely possible to make it out, and the picture would probably be dismissed by the regular public as a photoshopped fake.

But Warren knew it was real. And his father knew it was real. They both knew the photo was of him.

There was some yelling, and firm pointing, and lecturing that lasted all the way until his mother got home. Then they teamed up and lectured him together. He had to admit it was quite impressive.

"I can't believe you went behind our backs, lying to your own parents! After everything we've done for you! We've given you a comfortable life, sacrificed to pay off your doctors and tutors, and you go around and disrespect us by doing this…" Warren had prepared himself for the guilt-trip, especially from his mother.

"Were you trying to show off? Huh?" His father asked rhetorically, growing red in the face. "Who are you trying to impress? Is this for a girl?" Wanting a bit of freedom was invalid unless it was for a girl? He should have expected such a response from Warren Worthington, Jr.

"Why are you doing this to us?" His mother said with tears in her eyes. "Don't you realize that if you're discovered, it could be the end of our reputations, of everything your father and I have worked for?" That was all she cared about, of course. Their social status. Warren tried to appreciate the comfortable lifestyle they lived, but he honestly couldn't care about their social standing in the least.

"We've fought to give you a life of privacy, away from people who would make you out to be a freak, and you just go out and flaunt those wings out in the public?" His father took his turn yelling. "Son, we thought you were smarter than this!" His father might have had a should have known better than to think he could go outside, confront someone, and not be caught. It was a stupid decision.

"You have your entire future ahead of you - how can you expect to make it to CEO if word got out about this? If everyone knew you were...like this?" His mother continued. Warren started to tune them both out by this point, simply nodding along and doing his best to look contrite. He had given up arguing against his parents long ago, and focused only on giving them everything they wanted - or at least pretending to.

He'd realized it was pointless trying to convince them his wings had value somewhere around the time he hated them so much he'd tried to file them off his back.

It was the worst pain he'd experienced in his life. His own mother and father didn't even question his obvious distress or extreme self-loathing. They just dried his tears, made sure he was patched up, and carried on as they had before. No one ever brought it up again.

Now, although he did his best to look contrite as his parents berated him, Warren was outraged. Could his parents really want him to spend the rest of his life indoors? Did they honestly expect him to never go outside again? What was he supposed to do with these wings if not use them? It was as if they didn't care if he hated himself, they didn't care if he was miserable living cooped up, and they didn't care if he never saw another human face ever again.

As long as their precious reputation was intact, his happiness didn't matter. It was the most selfish, detestable thing he had ever heard.

In the end, his parents made him promise to attend every gala they go to, as well as promise he'd never try to fly again. Warren pretended to agree, although inside, he seethed. He wasn't sure how he would be able to stomach being around his parents now.

A week later, he was at an incredibly boring charity gala, in a suit specially tailored to hide his wings folded into his harness. He felt like he was suffocating. At least he could put his name to good use; the servers handed him champagne whenever he waved one of them over, despite knowing he was under 21.

"You must be Mister Worthington." A bald man in a fine tux and wheelchair rolled up next to him as the crowd was mingling before dinner.

"I'm sorry, sir, you must be mistaking me for my father. He's over there, by the governor's table."

"I'm afraid not. I've come to quite a few of these, and your father is a familiar face to me by now," the man said coolly, his words slightly clipped by a British accent. "You, young Warren, are precisely the one I needed to find. Charles Xavier," the man introduced himself, extending his hand.

"It's a pleasure," Warren said, taking his hand firmly and shaking it. He'd heard the name before, but he wasn't sure where. He'd lost track of all the wealthy people his parents rubbed shoulders with.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself much tonight," Xavier said, nodding to a server and accepting a champagne flute from her tray.

Warren forced a smile. "To be completely honest, I find them boring," he said. Warren was not being completely honest. The real truth was that Warren wasn't just bored at these fundraising galas; he absolutely hated them. They were usually attended by the upper class of New York who spent most of their time leeching off the less fortunate, and then on a few nights out of the year pretended as if they were full of selfless generosity. The fact that his own parents were among the leaders of the pack made it all worse.

Warren took a larger than appropriate sip of his champagne.

Xavier chuckled. "They bore me as well. I would just as rather be home reading a book. However, I have my responsibilities to look after the financial well being of my school."

Warren's eyes widened as he realized where he'd heard Xavier's name before: this entire gala was thrown to benefit his school. This man before him must be the famous college professor with four phDs and the inane idea to pour money into a new charter school upstate a decade or two ago. It was called "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters" or something of the sort.

Warren couldn't believe he'd forgotten the beneficiary of the very gala he was attending. His mother would be horrified at his lack of manners, were she here. "I apologize, Dr. Xavier, I didn't mean- your school is a very worthy cause and-" Warren stammered, and was stopped by Xavier's raised hand.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Worthington, I'm not offended," Xavier chuckled. "What brings you here tonight, if not choice?" Xavier sipped his champagne and swept his eyes over the crowd with scrutiny. Warren wondered if they both saw the same thing in the gala attendees: fake smiles, networking, and business deals. Perhaps he could trust him a little.

"My reason is the same as yours," Warren sighed. "I have my responsibilities to my family, to keep up the Worthington image." He tried not to let his face sour at that last word.

"I see. Are they trying to groom you for future leadership? Or trying to prove to everyone that you fit in with the philanthropic crowd?"

"A little of both."

"That's a shame. At my school, we teach that one's unique gifts aren't meant to be restrained with the bindings of uniformity, but to be set free and celebrated."

Warren raised an eyebrow. This man's words were a little too specific to be casual conversation. It made him suspicious. What did he know? And what did he want from Warren? People at galas usually only spoke to him when they wanted something.

"Forgive me for being blunt, Dr. Xavier, but what is your point?"

Xavier turned and looked him in the eye. He had a piercing gaze that made Warren feel as though he saw right through him.

"My school, Mr. Worthington, is a safe place for gifted young people who may not be accepted by most. My students all have certain abilities, if you will, that set them apart. They may even have extra...physical features that are extremely difficult to hide."

Warren felt his heart beating fast. This man couldn't be saying what he thought he was saying. That was impossible.

"If I may be blunt as well, Warren, I know about your wings. And I'd like to offer you an invitation to my school."

Warren's heart was drumming against his chest now, and he put his champagne glass down before he dropped it. "Your school is for people like me"

"Yes. My school is a safe place for mutants. If you boarded there, you would be free to display your wings, fly, or use your gift to save people, whenever you wished. Does that sound appealing to you?"

Warren tried to think quickly. This man, Dr. Xavier, had obviously read the tabloid article, and believed it. He'd discovered his identity and tracked him down. If there was one person who had done so, there could be others to follow. He could be dangerous.

But he was also his best bet at both safe haven and total freedom. Freedom was all he wanted.

Warren felt tears well up in his eyes. He hated always having to hide, literally restraining a piece of himself whenever he went outside, and now, being told by his own mother and father that he may never spread his wings again. He constantly felt as if he was suffocating - emotionally, mentally, and now, thanks to the harness, physically.

"Just promise me...that I'll never have to bind my wings again."

Prof. Xavier put down his champagne flute and looked him straight in the eyes. "Not only do I promise you that, I promise to help you spread them."

They shook on it.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I like to think about the logistics of the X-Men world: How does the Institute get funding? What kind of paperwork has to be done? What leads up to people giving their children permission to go to this school for mutants after The Professor outs their mutant status to their families?

The X-Men stories focus a lot on fighting and action, so we seldom get to know much about the students' home life. Which means there's room for fanfiction writers to fill in the gaps!


	3. Chapter 3

The next Saturday, Warren was peeking around the corner carefully, hidden at the top of the stairs. Xavier was paying a visit to his family's penthouse, and Warren wasn't supposed to be seen with his wings out in front of guests. Obviously, he couldn't reveal to his parents that he'd already met Professor Xavier before.

He heard him introduce the white-haired black woman who had accompanied him as Ms. Munroe, the principal at his school, and he watched his parents listen in petrified fear as he told them their only son was something called a "mutant", and that he was invited to continue his education at his very prestigious, elite institute.

A deep pause hung in the air after Xavier finished his explanation. Warren's father broke it. "I thought your school - the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth - was for at-risk children." Warren Worthington II. said, with the air of someone who had just found out he'd been cheated out of his money.

Xavier nodded. "It's true. All of my students are at risk, Mr. Worthington. They are at risk of being rejected by their family and society and cast out; as such, they are at an increased risk of homelessness, mental health problems, dropping out of school, or resorting to criminal activity."

Warren's father made a short "hm" sound, as if he still didn't entirely believe Xavier's story. Then his mother cleared her throat and spoke up.

"I don't know what kind of backgrounds your students usually come from, but we would never cast Warren out of the family," Kathryn Worthington said coolly. "Warren has a good life here and everything he could ever want."

Warren's heart sank when he heard his mother say that. It was just evidence of how little she understood about him. He had never had anyone he could relate to, for example. He had never had real friends.

"Mrs. Worthington," Xavier said calmly, ""Tell me: how much does your son see the outdoors nowadays?"

Kathryn Warrington furrowed her brow in perplexion. "He has all that he needs here at home, Professor Xavier. I'm not sure what you're implying."

"Don't his needs include contact with other people, or fresh air, without the need to hide who he is?"

"How dare you suggest that we're mistreating our son!" Warren's father spoke up in defense of his wife.

Warren could see Xavier raise his hands. "I don't mean to seem like a threat to your family, Mr. Worthington. I understand that you may need some time to think over what I've said." He nodded to Ms. Munroe, who produced an envelope from her portfolio. "These are the forms of consent for Warren to be admitted and boarded at my school. We'll be back next week. Take as much time as you need to decide if you want to sign them or not."

Warren watched as they said polite good-byes and his mother walked the guests out. "Good-bye, Mrs. Warrington," Xavier said on his way out the door. "Here's my card if you have any questions. It was very nice to meet you."

 _And good-bye, Warren,_ Xavier's voice suddenly echoed in Warren's head. Warren almost fell over in shock. _Don't be alarmed - this is my 'gift', you see. It's how I knew you were listening in on the conversation. And it's how I know you belong at my school._ Then Xavier was gone.

Warren heard his father storm out of the foyer and into his office. "I'm going to call our lawyer to look over these papers. I want to make sure we don't see our son in the news for being a kidnapping victim." Then his father slammed the door closed. Soon after, he heard his mother approaching the stairs. Warren scrambled to his feet and back into his room across the hall, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Who was that?" Warren asked innocently as he leaned out the door to his room. He was well-versed at hiding his feelings from his parents.

Kathryn motioned to have a seat in Warren's bedroom. She sat down opposite him, in a matching luxury lounge chair. But she did not look very comfortable in it.

"That was Dr. Charles Xavier. You may remember him from the gala the other night. He also brought the principal of his school, Ororo Munroe. They think you would be a good fit for his...institute. "

She drew out the word, as if it were something distasteful now. Warren listened as his mother told him his school is for other children who are mutants, and he said Warren was, too. He tried to look surprised, as if hearing this all for the first time. It wasn't too difficult; he was still in shock that there were other people with strange powers in the world.

"Will I find...more people like me there?"

"I have no idea if there's anyone else with wings, but Dr. Xavier seemed to indicate that his school is only for unusual people with strange abilities. There isn't even an admissions exam or essay requirement. All we would have to do...is say yes." Kathryn paused.

"Warren…" Her face was a mix of conflicting emotions. "Do you...do you wish to go with these people? Do you really think we're not doing enough for you here?"

Warren looked his mother in the eyes. They were bright, piercing blue eyes, just like his. He'd always thought his mother was very beautiful, when she wasn't frowning. It was too bad that she almost constantly was. At least he had inherited his mother's beauty; it was the only reason he was grateful for what his genes had given him.

Warren had always wished he could be closer to his mother in more than physical resemblance. He wished he could tell his mother how flying made him feel: how soaring on the air currents felt as natural as breathing to him. He wished he could tell her how he hated being forced to wear what was practically a straitjacket every time he went outside, and how he literally felt like a caged bird inside their apartment, and how a luxurious and spacious prison still felt like a prison.

He wished he could tell his mother all these things. But couldn't find the words.

Instead, Warren took a deep breath and simply said, "Yes. I want to go."

His mother's stare was so intense he looked away. When she spoke again, her voice was icy cold.

"Are we not good enough for you? Do you not understand that we've done everything in our power to give you the best life possible? Despite your 'issues', despite the fact that you've never lived independently, you would abandon us? Do you have any idea how ungrateful that is?"

They were rhetorical questions, of course. It was almost an exact repeat of the conversation they'd had when he was in the tabloids last month. Warren didn't respond, letting his mother release all her frustrations. He was very much hoping his mother wouldn't act out in anger when he told her he wanted to go to Xavier's Institute. Once again, she had let him down.

"Your father wants to cut you off, you know."

Warren looked up and there were tears in his mother's eyes.

"If you decide you want to leave us, he wants to cut you off. He wants you to have no money, or support, or even contact with the family. Do you want that kind of life for yourself?"

Warren thought about it for only a moment. He found that he honestly didn't really care. He didn't care about the money, and his parents had never given him much emotional support, so any additional loss of support would be minimal.

He remembered how he felt when Xavier had told him there was a place for someone like him. It felt like someone had offered him a way out of a future of captivity. Warren had never had an opportunity like that, and for the first time, it was in his grasp. And he was going to take it.

"Even if you left me with nothing," Warren said slowly, "my decision would remain the same. Do whatever you like."

"Warren! We're just trying to do what's best for you!"

"I understand that," Warren said as calm as he could. His patience was wearing thin, and it was taking much of his effort not to become angry at his mother. "You've always tried to protect me from the outside world, to try to shield me from people would perceive me if they knew about my wings. But I don't feel that is what's best for me anymore."

This could be one of the last times he spoke to her, if his father truly cut him off like he said he would. Warren had to seize this chance to tell his mother how he really felt, or he would forever regret saying nothing at all.

He picked up his mother's hands. Perfectly manicured and impeccably moisturized, they felt soft and light in his. Then he looked her in the eyes again.

"Mother, I was literally born to fly. And when I use my wings, when I'm out there, in the sky...I feel like it was what I'm meant to do! I can't go the rest of my life without that feeling again." He steadied his voice, trying to speak firmly before his mother shot him down again.

"So you can cut me off if you like. However, when Dr. Xavier returns, with or without your support, I'm going with him."

A dead silence hung in the room. Was she too shocked that Warren had begun a sentence with a conjunction? Or had his mother actually heard what he had said?

Tears fell from Kathryn Worthington's eyes. She wordlessly stood up and left the room.

The next few days were filled with paperwork, and visits from the Worthington's family lawyer. Requests was made to his online school for his transcripts. A strange tension filled the home that no one mentioned, but Warren could definitely feel.

In between filling out forms, packing his bags, and his regular amount of schoolwork, Warren could hear his father yelling on the phone. "What kind of 'prestigious' institution doesn't even require a teacher recommendation, or a personal essay- what the hell is going on here, Xavier? What do you mean you take students of all academic levels? I thought this school was supposed to be ELITE!" His father's booming voice echoed through the apartment.

However, he never once told Warren that he wouldn't be attending the Institute. So Warren continued his preparations.

He completed his parts of the application, and Warren's parents filled out the section that asked for a personal opinion of their child and their school performance. Then they sealed the envelope. He never got to read what it said.

Finally, the big day was here. Dr. Xavier and Ms. Munroe returned. "I take it you've accepted my offer, Mister Worthington?" He looked directly at Warren.

"Yes," Warren said quickly. His parents nodded reluctantly.

"Enough of this," his father stepped forward. "I won't have my son going attending some shady, haphazard, newfangled experimental school."

Warren glanced at his father. He knew he had said he was leaving with or without his parents' approval, but he'd never fought his father on anything before. Would he have to oppose him, here and now? His mother looked equally shocked.

"I certainly won't have him going anywhere I don't think he'll be properly taken care of. Dr. Xavier, I will personally see to it that all your school's needs are provided for. Any facilities, services, or supplies you need funding for, you come to me. I'm giving my boy a regular stipend, to cover anything he'll need as well."

Warren smiled. His father wasn't cutting him off after all; in fact, he was supporting him, without apologizing directly. Warren knew money and gifts was his father's way of saying, "I love you, stay safe". He also knew his father would never be caught dead saying those things aloud.

"Well, what are you standing around for?" Warren Worthington II asked his son. "Don't leave our guests waiting. Are you packed? Is everything ready to go?"

It was a redundant question. Warren had been packed since last night, and he'd placed his suitcases right by the door. He picked up his bags as his mother stepped forward, handing him the thick envelope with his admissions forms in it. She smiled and smoothed his hair.

"Good-bye, Warren. I love you." She hugged him tight.

"I love you too," Warren hugged her back, not remembering the last time his mother had hugged him like this.

He raised a hand to his father, who simply nodded back.

"I'm ready." Warren picked up his suitcases and turned towards Xavier and Ms. Munroe. "Please, after you."

Ms. Munroe promised his parents they'd take very good care of Warren, and Xavier thanked them for giving his school a chance, but Warren didn't bother reassuring his parents. He didn't look back.

He walked out of the home that held the only life he had ever known, and into a brand new one.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

This was originally going to be in "Anxiety & X-Men", my X-Men: Evolution AU fanfic, but I could never find a place for it in story proper. Once again I fell to my complete inability to summarize, and probably went into too much detail, but in some ways, that was probably a good thing. It made it a good standalone piece.

A lot of my inspiration for this came from "Mission X", a Yu Yu Hakusho / X-Men: Evolution crossover, hosted on this very website. It's been abandoned for years, but it's one of my favorite stories in the world. It covers seldom-seen topics like breaking the news to mutants' parents, testing students' powers and physical ability once they get into the Institute, and how normal high school dynamics would be changed. Give it a read if you can.


End file.
